


Where Romance Novels Go to Die

by soliloquize



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, albus and rose are good at denial, and everyone is suffering from sexual tension, but eventually there will be Character Development and Emotional Maturation, no one knows their sexuality, poor alice pretty much just has to clean up their collective mess, scorpius is bad at communication, starts out strong in the smut department
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5716543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soliloquize/pseuds/soliloquize
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Dealing With Teen Angst was an OWL course, they'd all be failing.</p><p>Albus is going out with Alice Longbottom, pretty much the most awesome girl he knows.<br/>There's only one problem-- a tiny little incident that happened after the last Quidditch match celebration party.<br/>(What does it mean that Al sucked off his roommate while too drunk to walk straight?)</p><p>Scorpius and Rose are the two smartest students in their year--come on, false modesty doesn't do anyone any good--and yet they still manage to be absolutely clueless.<br/>(Platonic friends can have tickle fights on their friends' beds without it meaning anything, right?)<br/>(Sure they can)<br/>(But has Scorpius always had such nice arms?)<br/>(And when did Rose's laugh get so sexy?)</p><p>Four years after "Coming Out of the Shadows", and the gang can all agree that Death Eaters aren't half as scary as adolescent hormones and new love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blame It on the Firewhiskey

**Author's Note:**

> I just want everyone to know how badly I wanted to name this fic "Coming Out of the Closet" in parody of it's prequel "Coming Out of the Shadows". But I refrained. Be proud of me.

            The first time Albus got drunk on Firewhiskey, it ended with him giving his ostensibly straight roommate a blowjob.

            He was never going to touch alcohol again.

 

            It shouldn’t have been a big deal, really.  Everyone had an embarrassing drunk-after-a-big-quidditch-win story.  Maya had famously declared her undying love to Professor Nott last year when he came in to tell them to stop celebrating winning the Cup, and Rose’s friend Martin had had deep philosophical conversations with his cat more than once.

            It was just a stupid situation for him to have gotten himself into to begin with.  Seriously, he _never_ drank that much.  Usually just enough that dancing seemed like a fun idea, instead of a good way for him to imitate a lame hippogriff.   That night, though, he took a shot every time the bottle of Firewhiskey made its way around to him.  Something about the exhilaration of beating their rivals, or being in the lead for the Cup, or the way Scorpius’s eyes were shining at his first win as Captain made restraint seem superfluous.  Al wasn’t even on the team, of course, but house pride was a thing, okay?

            Then there was the fact that he had asked Alice Longbottom to the next Hogsmeade weekend earlier that day.  She had accepted, and twelve hours later he was taking the pants off another bloke.  Albus _really_ didn’t know how to feel about this.  It’s not as if he and Alice were actually a couple, so he didn’t think it counted as cheating, exactly, but it seemed inconsistent at the very least.

            The morality was less grey for the bloke in question, Clayton, who actually had a girlfriend.

            Of course, none of that had really seemed worth remembering at the time.  Al’s recollections of the previous night were a bit hazy, between his state of intoxication at the time and his current state of shame, but he remembered stumbling off the impromptu dance floor and over to a nearby couch.   The couch already had an occupant, Clayton Walish, a muggleborn wizard Al was friendly enough with.  Albus definitely meant to sit down next to the other boy, but he somehow ended up on his lap instead.  He apologized blearily for his lack of balance.

            “S’fine,” Clayton had said dismissively.  “Guess this ‘splains why y’don’t fly.”

            To which Albus was fairly sure he had replied, “I may not fly, but I’d ride _your_ broomstick any day.”

            The memory made him blush in mortification, but he must have delivered the line well in the moment because the next thing he could recall was having Clayton’s mouth all over his lips.

            And his jaw.

            And his ear.

            Down his neck.

            At his collarbone.

            Albus blushed again at the memory of it.

            They had gone up to the empty dormitory with all their clothes still on, but it wasn’t a state that lasted long.  Albus had waited just long enough to collapse onto Clay’s bed and draw the curtains that had built in Silencing Charms before tearing off his shirt.  They were kneeling and facing each other; Al gave Clay a moment to take in Al’s bare torso before running his hands under the other boy’s shirt and pushing him onto his back, and it wasn’t long before Clay was shirtless too.

            It had felt so nice running his hand along Clay’s well-defined abs that Al gave into the temptation to do it again, stroking up from his slim hips, across his stomach, and down along the muscular arms that came from years of playing Beater.

            Then he gave into the temptation to follow the same path with his mouth.

            He _really_ liked the way the other boy groaned, so he did it again, and again, until his jeans became uncomfortably tight, and he began to feel light headed from arousal.

            Clay took advantage of Al’s momentary pause to pull him in for a hungry kiss before flipping them both over.  Clay wasn’t burly, but he was tall and muscular enough that his weight took Albus by surprise.  His hips were still more or less between Albus’s legs, and he couldn’t think clearly enough to keep track of where the other boy’s hands and mouth were, but oh-sweet- _Merlin_ he did not want to stop.  Nor, from the feel of things, did Clayton.

            Albus blushed again as he remembered how Clay had started thrusting in time to his ragged breathing after Al bit his collarbone, but he couldn’t stop the shiver that traveled down his spine.

            Somehow he kept his head enough to be able to undo Clayton’s zipper, a gesture for which Clay repaid him by taking off his remaining garments altogether.  Al pushed himself up on his elbows, fascinated and turned the fuck on at the sight of his roommate’s erection.  They remained sitting up only long enough for Al to kiss Clayton deeply on the lips.  He quickly moved his mouth down Clay’s neck, onto his stomach, and the other boy fell back.  A sort of hum was coming from the back of his throat, and Albus’s dick was so hard it was throbbing.  He kissed right where the waistband of Clayton’s underwear would have sat and ran his left hand along Clay’s dick.  Al felt him harden even more when he let his tongue dart out, and on impulse because he desperately wanted to see what it would feel like, Al moved his mouth over the other boy’s dick.

            He had never _done_ anything like this before, hadn’t even really imagined it, but they were both far enough gone that whatever Al was improvising with his lips and his tongue as he moved to the base of Clay’s dick was enough to make Clay come and drive Al out of his _mind_.  He forced himself to swallow before frantically tearing off his pants and stroking himself as hard and as fast as he could.  It didn’t take long before he groaned in relief and collapsed next to Clayton who was still breathing heavily.

            Al was asleep before he could think of any of the multitude of reasons he shouldn’t be found waking up in his roommate’s bed instead of his own.

           

Funnily enough, they all came crashing back as soon as he woke to a mix of sunlight and Scorpius’s voice demanding,

            “Why the hell are you in Walish’s bed?”

            “Er,” Al said brilliantly.  “Well, um…”

            Scorpius snorted.  “Didn’t realize you were that sloshed last night, man.”

            “Er… yeah,” Al agreed faintly.  He tried to sit up and groaned involuntarily at the nausea the motion sent rolling through his stomach.  “Oh _fuck_.”        

            Scorpius grimaced sympathetically, and a waste bin levitated over to the side of the bed. 

            “We’ve all been there, mate.  Let it out,” he encouraged with minimal disgust as Al vomited spectacularly into the bin.

            “How are you so chipper?” Al muttered bitterly after a few more heaves.

            “Davies has a hangover potion.  You can have some once you stop throwing up.”

            Gratified that at least Scorpius had also had to resort to magical means to avoid the physical consequences of last night’s uninhibited drinking, Al straightened up shakily.

            “I should be good now.”  Scorpius eyed him thoughtfully and Summoned the potion.

            “I’m going to breakfast because I told Rose I’d meet her to study in twenty minutes.”  He tossed the bottle at Al, and Al actually managed to catch it which seemed like a good sign.  “I’d wait a few more minutes just in case you can’t keep it down right away,” Scorpius advised as he grabbed his bag.

            “Er, see you for dinner?”

            “Yeah, sure,” Scorpius called over his shoulder on the way out the door.

            Al stared at the spot Scorpius had vacated for another quarter of an hour, trying to suppress memories of the previous night, though the shudders that ran through him weren’t _all_ nausea.

            Had anyone seen them?  Scorpius certainly wasn’t acting like he had, but that didn’t really mean much.  Al realized despondently that he might never find out if anyone knew he’d made out with a boy on the couch in the most shadowed corner of the common room.  Nothing stayed secret in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor for long, and half of Ravenclaw were worse rumor mills than batty old Rita Skeeter.  But if a Slytherin had seen him and Clayton, word wouldn’t get out until that person felt it benefitted them.  Al groaned—he’d never know if there were no witnesses, or if the persons who witnessed the act were merely biding their time.

            Al chugged the hangover potion, half wishing he’d drank enough the night before to not remember it.  _I’m never drinking that much again_ , he promised himself.  Alcohol made people do dumb things, things they never would normally.

            Last night didn’t… _mean_ anything.

 

* * *

 

 

            “Oi, Scor, quiz me for the Runes exam tomorrow?”  Rose, bored of studying quietly on her bed, accompanied her request-slash-demand with a gentle toss of the textbook directly at Scorpius’s face, sniggering when he looked up too late to catch it.

            “Rose what the fuck?” She laughed at his injured tone, saw his lip was bleeding, felt slightly bad, but couldn’t help laughing harder at the pathetic expression he wore.

            Healing the cut nonverbally, Scorpius glared at her where she sat cross-legged against her headboard.

            “Why should I help you after that?”

            “Hey it’s not my fault your Keeping skill aren’t even good enough to catch a light toss.”

            “I would refrain from commenting on my Keeping skills, seeing as how Gryffindor didn’t manage to score a single goal in our match yesterday.” He gave her his trademark smirk.  Rose stuck her tongue out at him as he moved to sit next to her.

            “I suppose you can use Quidditch as a backup plan when you fail out of school because you refuse to study Runes, then.”

            “Please,” he scoffed, stretching back against the headboard for effect.  “I don’t need to study.  You see, I’m so much smarter than you naturally—“

            He was cut off when Rose good-naturedly jabbed her elbow into his stomach.

            “You wish, Malfoy.  Now ask me questions.”  She deposited the Runes book in his lap imperiously.  
            “Fine.  What’s your favourite colour?  Muggle or magical music?  Have you ever had a sex dream about a teacher?”  When Rose protested, he grinned, clearly delighted at having gotten a rise out of her.  “You just said to ask you questions.” 

            Even as she shoved his shoulder against his Scorpius laughed, and Rose found she couldn’t keep from grinning along.  This unguarded Scorpius was her favourite—he was so good at playing the role the professors or the other students or his family expected to see that to see him completely unmasked and genuine was akin to seeing a wild Snidget.

            “Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, you know what I meant!” she said with mock sternness.

            “Oh I so regret not Obliviating you after my mum let that one slip,” he shot back.

            “Why?  It’s such a lovely name.  Maybe you should start going by that,” Rose fought to keep a straight face.  “You look like a Hyperion.  We could call you Hype-y for short.”

            “Rose Weasley you take that back,” Scorpius half-growled as he lunged at her and began to tickle her side.  Rose half shrieked, but stood her ground.

            “That I think—Hyperion is—an elegant name with—the poise be—fitting a fine Malfoy specimen—such as yourself?” she asked through breathless laughter.  “Why would I—“

            Scorpius moved so his full weight was on her, laughing himself but trying to act serious.

            “Say it!  Say you think Hyperion is the shit name it is and swear you’ll take the knowledge of it to your grave!”

            “Never!”

            “Oh, sorry!”

Both of them froze, looking to the door which had just been opened by two of Rose’s dormmates.  Scorpius half threw himself off of Rose into an upright position on the opposite end of the bed.

            “No, no it’s not a problem—it’s not like—nothing was happening,” Rose stuttered while Scorpius turned progressively deeper shades of pink.  “Nothing to apologize for!”

            “Right,” Gemma Roth said skeptically after a pause that felt infinite.  Cassie Cauldwalder, ever reticent, just raised her eyebrows and crossed the room to dig through her trunk.

            “Well, er, I should really go finish up that essay for, um—yeah,” Scorpius said vaguely as he hastily gathered up his things and all but ran out of the room.

            It took Gemma exactly one millisecond to pounce.

            “What was going on there, hmm Rosie?” she asked sweetly.  Rose felt her ears warm.

            “Nothing!  It was just _Scorpius_.”  _Why did that sound so unconvincing?_ Rose berated herself.

            “Just Scorpius lying directly on top of you while on your _bed_ ,” Gemma challenged.  Rose ignored the butterflies that burst to life in her stomach at the thought of that image.  They weren’t even butterflies.  Why would she feel butterflies?  She had thought the milk tasted a bit off at breakfast.  That’s all it was, indigestion.  Probably.

            “Oh—shut up Gem.  I have Runes to study.”  Rose dismissed her friend by sticking her head into the Runes textbook she had thrown at Scorpius not twenty minutes ago, making a valiant effort to focus on the translation instead of the memories of Scorpius’s confident smirk, or his open laughter, or the feeling of his hands on her waist that kept intruding.  Nope.  She definitely wasn’t thinking about that at all.

 

* * *

 

 

            _It was just Rose, you wanker_ , Scorpius thought at himself furiously in the fourth floor bathroom he had escaped into to collect his thoughts.  _It’s not as though there_ was _anything happening._   Rose was a physical person; it came from being part of a big family, where hugs were a mandatory greeting and Quidditch games devolved into wrestling matches as often as not.  Even before they became good friends, Rose had never had a problem good-naturedly nudging his shoulder or throwing her arms around him and Al.  There was a picture on the Potter’s mantle of the three of them at Christmas; they were in third year or so, and he and Al had taken the last seats on the couch, so Rose simply plunked herself down on top of them and they all stayed that way for most of the time it took to exchange gifts—certainly long enough for Ginny to get out the camera.

            _This wasn’t any different_ , Scorpius insisted to himself.  _You sit next to her and study all the time, it’s completely platonic, stop freaking out._ He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, his white-blonde hair in painful contrast to the magenta shade of his face.  Why was he still fucking blushing?  What was there to blush about?

            _I just… don’t want her friends jumping to conclusions,_ Scorpius told himself as he hastily splashed the cold tap water on his face.  _It might…make things weird between us._   At the same time, he could still recall with uncomfortable detail exactly how it felt to have Rose lying under him.  He’d practically been _straddling_ her for Merlin’s sake.  A warm feeling spread through his chest, and Scorpius was sure he was blushing again.  Just… had Rose always had such a sexy laugh?  Had he always wanted to run his hands through her hair?  And Merlin, her legs—they were great legs, really, muscular and long.  He thought again about how he could feel her abs flex under his fingers as he tickled her, how she squirmed against him—

Scorpius realized with horror that the crotch of his pants was growing uncomfortably tight.

            _No, fuck it, you fucker, what is wrong with you?  This is Rose you’re thinking about like that what the actual fuck_ —

            This was the most mortified he’d ever been, including the time Father had walked in on him wanking off at thirteen years old and decided it would be a good time to give him The Talk.  Not caring if it was rational, Scorpius cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself so he wouldn’t have to be seen and very nearly ran the rest of the distance to the Prefects' bathroom and the dubious relief of a cold shower.

           


	2. Dueling Is Easier Than Communicating

The first class they had with the Gryffindors was Defense on Wednesday.  Scorpius hadn’t been alone with Rose—or even had a proper conversation with her—since their aborted study session.  She ate meals with her House friends, and they only talked about assignments when they met up with Al to do homework in the library.

            It wasn’t that Scorpius was nervous— _it’s just Rose_ , as he’d told himself approximately every two hours since Sunday morning.  He was, however, feeling rather unnerved.  He wasn’t sure exactly what had changed in their friendship, but there was no denying it was different.  The feeling reminded him of when he’d last sailed to France; there had been a patch of rough sea, and he’d stumbled across the rolling deck for several minutes, only barely retaining his footing.  The boat had gone from something on which he was completely surefooted to a surface trying its best to throw him overboard.

            It was not a fond memory.

            When Professor Creevy told them they’d be dueling today, Scorpius felt himself perk up.  He and Rose always paired up for such activities, as they were the only two who consistently proved a challenge for the other.  Their academic rivalry was more of an inside joke than anything at this point, but Rose was still fiercely competitive in any situation, and Scorpius refused to go down easily.  If an hour of slinging jinxes at each other couldn’t erase the awkwardness between them, nothing would.

            “Don’t cast anything that can’t be blocked by a Shield Charm,” Professor Creevy reminded them.  “And while using unexpected spells will certainly give you an edge, I remind you that the spells we went over last week will all be on your midterm exams.  It would not be a bad idea to practice them!”  Flitwick had finally retired, which officially made Professor Creevy the shortest member of the faculty, but he still had a remarkably commanding voice for someone who looked so much like a blading second year.

            Scorpius caught Rose’s eye across the room; she jerked her head in response to his questioning eyebrow, then smacked Gemma when the other girl muttered something.  Scorpius felt his face warm suddenly; Gemma had been one of Rose’s roommates who’d walked in on their—study session.

            The thing was, Scorpius was reasonably confident that neither of them had originally meant anything by their interaction on Sunday.  And yet, as Rose took her place opposite him and smirked challengingly, he suddenly wondered if he _still_ wanted it to mean nothing.

            “Stupefy!” Rose yelled a second after Professor Creevy gave them the signal to begin.  Scorpius cast a Shield Charm almost without thinking.  Rose’s propensity for taking the offensive was one of the great constants in his life.

            He muttered, “Tarantallegra,” in return, and as Rose deflected it followed up with a nonverbal Jelly-Legs Jinx.  It wasn’t as strong as one he could have cast out loud, but Rose’s lack of anticipation was enough for it to hit her, even if it didn’t actually knock her over.

            “Prat!” she growled at him before sending a barrage of spells his way. 

            “Very good, Miss Weasley,” Professor Creevy said from across the room.  Apparently he’d noticed how Rose’s attacks left no room for Scorpius to retaliate.  _Unless I let one hit me first_. 

            Rose’s eyes widened as he suddenly gave up shouting “Protego,” and instead sent a quiet Stunner her way.  He took the last Furnculus Curse she sent at him on the arm, and immediately winced at the itchy fungus that started to spread toward his shoulder.  Smugness followed on the heels of his discomfort as Rose collapsed.

            “Five points to Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor Creevy told him, an aside on his way to wake Rose.

            Scorpius wasn’t expecting the lurch in his chest that came as he watched Rose’s eyelids flutter.  He needn’t have been overly concerned; as soon as she regained full consciousness, the cute, peaceful expression she’d worn transformed itself immediately into a scowl.  Scorpius smirked instinctively.

            “Low blow, Malfoy,” she said as she grabbed a desk to pull herself to her feet.

            “Miss Weasley, you must be ready for anything!” Professor Creevy reminded her.  “It’s not on your opponent to play fair.”  He moved on to critique Al and Maya, and though Rose hardly looked mollified, she sat on the desk next to Scorpius.  Did he imagine the slight blush on her cheeks as their legs brushed?

            “Since when do you cast nonverbally?” she demanded.  He must have imagined the blush.  _It’s just Rose_.

            “It’s a good way to review spells you already know,” Scorpius shrugged, letting his bravado slip.  “You have to be way more confident with a spell to do it nonverbally; that’s why the Jelly-Legs didn’t even knock you over.”

            “ _Still_ ,” Rose looked like she was torn between being impressed and annoyed.  After a second, Scorpius felt his wand twitch alarmingly in his hand.

            “Hey!”

            Rose looked pleased with herself.  “Not bad for my first nonverbal Expelliarmus.”  Scorpius shook his head, feeling his bangs fall down in his face, and decided this wasn’t a fight worth escalating.

            “Are you coming to lunch?” he asked instead.

            “No, Malfoy, I’m participating in a hunger strike until Hogwarts gets with the times and adds a course on the cultures of other magical beings to the curriculum.”

            “That’s actually not a bad idea,” Scorpius ignored her sarcasm because he knew it would irritate her.  “Y’know I read a really interesting essay on modern wizard-goblin relations the other day.  It essentially came down to the fact that there’s fundamental miscommunications.  Both societies try to evaluate each other according to their own culture, which doesn’t work, obviously.”

            “Obviously.  Which is why we should educate our youth on the histories and cultures of other magical beings!”

            “I think it would be more effective to petition the Board of Directors than to protest outright, though.  Get your mum in on it; she has to have the right sorts of contacts for this.”

            “We can talk to her over break, maybe.  She’s always happy when I have a project.”

            Scorpius was inordinately pleased with the assumption that they’d be together over the Christmas holidays, which was entirely stupid as he’d spent at least a week with the Potters every break since second year, with Rose coming over more often than not.

            They talked through the rest of the class, and Rose came to sit with him and Al at the Slytherin table for lunch.  It wasn’t until Rose tossed her cloud of strikingly red hair over her shoulder, smiling as she waved good-bye to the boys, that Scorpius registered the way his stomach flipped over—before immediately sinking as a result of this epiphany.

            He was distracted through all of Charms, but if Al noticed, he didn’t say anything.  Instead of trying to fall asleep, Scorpius spent half the night trying to dissect his emotions.  How much of this was just hormone driven curiosity?  He was almost sixteen, reasonably sure he was straight, and Rose was an objectively attractive girl.  It would be natural for him to wonder, right?

            But Hogwarts was full of objectively attractive girls with whom he didn’t have friendships at stake, and yet it wasn’t Rachel Goldstein he was wondering about.  Scorpius huffed a frustrated breath into his pillow.  He had _not_ signed up for this.

            It took at least another hour of tossing and turning before he drifted off into mercifully dreamless sleep.

 


	3. What Happens in Hogsmeade...

They walked down to Hogsmeade as a trio, as they nearly always did.  Scorpius was the last to arrive at their meeting point just outside the Great Hall, though Al was too preoccupied to remark fondly on how long the blond boy’s morning routine always took. 

            “What are you even nervous about, Al?” Rose demanded.  “It’s just Alice for Merlin’s sake.” What Rose didn’t know was that the bundle of nerves in his stomach were not caused by _just Alice_.  Anxiety had been thrashing around inside him like a snake for exactly six days now, thanks to actions entirely unrelated to Alice.

            Of course, their impending date wasn’t exactly calming him down.

            “She’s got a point,” Scorpius agreed when Al didn’t respond.  “Even if she has a rubbish time, she’ll definitely be too nice to say so.”

            “Very helpful, thank you Scorpius,” the other boy replied sarcastically, but Scorpius could tell he was still distracted.

            “Well you’re friends already, it’s not as if you won’t have anything to talk about.”

            “It’s different now,” Al muttered.  He should have known better than to think these two wouldn’t be happy to just drop it.

            “What, ‘cause it’s a date?” Rose scoffed a bit.  “Trust me, you don’t have anything to worry about.  Alice was really happy you asked her; it’s not a pity thing.”

            “Can we just… stop talking about it?”  Surprisingly, this worked, though Al guessed the prolonged silence was due to them communicating wordless agreement over his head—of all his father’s features he’d inherited, height so far had not proven to be one of them.  He was still a full inch shorter than Rose’s 5’7”, and her brother Hugo towered over them both even at the age of thirteen.

            “Let’s hit Honeyduke’s first, shall we?” Al said, to cut his own thoughts off as much as to interrupt Rose and Scorpius’s patronizing silent exchange.  They’d been weird all week, but his pride could only take so much.

 

            “You look pretty,” Al told Alice when he met up with her at the Three Broomsticks.  She did look pretty, but it didn’t really explain why he’d blurted it out so awkwardly.  Alice generally looked pretty, and it had never made him this much of a conversational klutz.

            “Thanks,” she took the compliment with a smile.  “I’ll, um, get the Butterbeers if you find a table?”  Al nodded and made it to a booth near the back before wondering if he should have insisted on paying, as the one who proposed the date.

            “I can, er, pay you back,” he offered when Alice showed up with two bottles. 

            “Oh, no it’s not a problem.  Rosemerta gives me a discount because she knows my mum.”  Alice smiled again, and Al cast about for something to say

            “Have you done the Potions essay?”  This was a good topic, and they managed to spend a quarter of an hour arguing over whether moonstones would have greater potency ground up or dissolved in rose water.

            Albus was distracted from the conversation when he spotted Rose and Scorpius walk in.  Was he imagining things, or were they standing closer than they normally did?

            Alice followed his line of sight.  “Oh, should we go say hi?”

            “I’d rather not,” Albus said dryly, tearing his gaze from his two best friends.  “They were giving me more shit than I care to say about this date earlier.”

            “Oh no,” Alice sympathized.

            “It’s not a big deal,” Albus said, feeling irritated but not sure why.

            “Well, I’d like to, um, say that—for the record,” Alice blushed.  “I’m glad you asked me out.”  Al smiled at her mechanically because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

            “Hey, Alice, d’you want to get out of here?” he asked on impulse.

            “Oh—sure.  Yeah.” She smiled shyly, and Al grabbed her hand on another impulse as they walked out of the tavern.

 

 

* * *

 

            The space Al had left between her and Scorpius was stressing Rose out.  Which was stupid.  So, to prove she was not at all flustered by Scorpius fucking Malfoy, she deliberately closed the gap between them.  She thought Scorpius might have stiffened at her sudden closeness but he relaxed quickly, and also, she reminded herself, she didn’t care.

            “Fancy getting lunch?” she asked brightly.

            “Sure,” Scorpius replied.  Did his easiness seemed forced? Rose wondered before quickly reminding herself that she _didn’t care_.  “Hogs Head?”

            “Or… we could go to Three Broomsticks and spy on Al and Alice?”

            “Have you never heard of minding your own business, Weasley?”

            “Two of my closest friends becoming romantically involved is completely my business,” Rose said matter-of-factly.  “Oi, I saw that eye roll.”  She cuffed him on the back of the head, which was definitely harder to reach than it had been last year.  When had Scorpius gotten so bloody tall?

            “See this, Weasley,” he responded by casually flipping her off.  It was Rose’s turn to roll her eyes then, and she started off towards the Three Broomsticks without waiting for Scorpius.  He caught up with her in a matter of strides (seriously he was half a foot taller than her now, what the hell).

            Walking into the bar, Rose stumbled, and she felt Scorpius’s hand settle on the small of her back to steady her.  She didn’t think anything of it (because it wasn’t a big deal.  It was exactly what Gemma or James or any of her cousins would have done, if they weren’t looking to see her fall, of course.  Rose most certainly was not fixating on the fact that Scorpius Malfoy’s hand was placed firmly only a few inches above the waistband of her jeans.  Not in the slightest), but even once she had regained her balance, he kept it there all the way until they sat at the bar.

            Forget butterflies in her stomach, it was like there were fucking dragons.

            “Two butterbeers,” Rose told the elderly Rosemerta.  Did her voice sound breathless?  Why the hell did her voice sound breathless?  _Why was Scorpius Malfoy’s surprisingly strong, long fingered hand making her breathless?_

            “I’m—er, bathroom,” Rose beat a retreat.  She splashed a handful of water on her face while swearing under her breath at Gemma.  It was stupid to be noticing Scorpius this way, and she definitely blamed her friend for planting the suggestion.  But Rose prided herself on a quality other people generally called obstinacy, so she strode out of the bathroom, determined to make things not-awkward through sheer force of will.

            “Your quarry left,” Scorpius informed her, smirking slightly.

            “Oh—damn,” Rose said a beat late as she remembered their original purpose in coming to the Three Broomsticks.

            “I ordered fish and chips, though,” he continued.

            “Brilliant, I’m starving.” Rose took a chip as the dish itself was set in front of Scorpius.

            “Oi, I don’t remember saying you could have any!”

            Rose smiled sweetly and tossed him the fingers with one hand, taking a second handful of chips with the other.  He rolled his eyes but seemed to realize that further objection was futile.  Rose basked in the greasy glory of that victory as they speculated inanely about Albus and Alice’s future as a couple.

            “I’m telling you, the name thing is a deal breaker!  There is no flow to ‘Alice and Albus’, it’s just a bloody tongue twister.”

            “We could combine their names to refer to both of them.”

            “How, Rose?  Their names both have the same first syllable.”

            “Alissbus.  Albiss.”  Scorpius was shaking his head and laughing at her ridiculous sounding attempts at name mash-ups, and Rose cracked a grin too.  “Hey, or just ‘the Al’s’ for short!”

            “But that’s another problem right there—they both have the same nickname.”

            “Scorpy,” Rose said seriously, putting a hand on his shoulder and staring concernedly into his eyes.  “Don’t you know that when two individuals fall in love, it no longer becomes necessary to differentiate between them?  They are One.”

            “Right,” he drawled in response, drawing the word out over two syllables.  Rose waited for him to add something witty, but instead his smirk dropped a little as he quickly licked his lips, and his eyebrows furrowed.  Rose mirrored him unconsciously, relaxing her expression so that her mouth just parted.  What had they been talking about again?

            _You’ve been staring into his eyes for a really long time_ , piped up an exasperated little voice in her head.  Rose realized suddenly that the voice was right; how long had she been looking at Scorpius like a gormless idiot?  The realization was accompanied by a fantastic blush—curse those fucking ginger genes, you’d think her mom’s dark complexion would cancel them out—and she cleared her throat loudly.

            “It’s getting late, we should probably clear out if we want to hit Honeydukes and make it back on time,” she said.  Scorpius shook his head, looking slightly dazed.

            “Er, yeah, sounds good.”  He reached into a pocket and threw some gold on the bar.

 

* * *

 

 

            Alice tried not to be too obvious about the way she suddenly couldn’t stop smiling, but it was hard to hide how pleased she was about how this date was going.  To be honest, she was worried it might be awkward, to suddenly go from just friends to being on a real date, but the way Al had blushed when he asked her out made her willing to risk it, and the gamble seemed to be paying off.  His gloved hand squeezed hers briefly as they ambled toward the Shrieking Shack, and Alice’s hidden smile grew larger.

            “Are you still doing those advanced lessons with Lewis?” Al asked, glancing at her.

            “Sort of,” Alice told him.  “She has me helping to prepare the first and second year classes, and while I’m cutting up knotgrass or whatever, she just spouts off all the theory behind the potion.”

            “Oh, cool.”

            “Yeah, it’s actually a bit silly that the curriculum only focuses on how to brew the potions, and doesn’t really cover anything about why the ingredients react the way they do.”

            Al nodded.  “James said his NEWT Defense classes are the same way.  It’s funny, he’ll come home and go on about ‘why does each jinx need its own unique counterjinx’ and shit with Aunt Hermione, and my dad barely ever bothers with theory, he’s all about instinct and stuff because,” Al mimed pushing glasses up his nose and began to mimic his father, “‘In a duel there won’t be time to think anything through.  You have to be able to cast spells reflexively.  It’s just you and your gut out there, son.’”

            Alice laughed at the voice Al used for Harry, and she saw his ears go a bit pink as he rolled his eyes.

            “My dad always said yours was a really good teacher, though,” Alice said.

            “Yeah, well, he is with other people.  He’s already going pretty hard on James though.”  They slowed to a halt—they’d managed to walk to the end of the village and all the way down to the bottom of the hill where the Shrieking Shack stood.  “I’m sure he’s only going to be worse when James officially joins the Aurors; not sure why he wants to go through that to be honest.”  Al snorted.  “Though I can’t really claim to ever understand my brother’s decision making process.”

            “You don’t want to be an Auror, then?” 

            “Nah,” he grimaced a little.  “I think I’d prefer Gringotts to the Ministry.”

            “Oh right!  Did you and Rose ever manage to learn Gobledegook?” Alice laughed as she remembered the cousins’ project from the previous summer.  Albus grinned wryly.

            “Like two sentences.  Uncle Bill doesn’t remember as much as he thinks he does, and Teddy really only knows the swearwords.” 

            Alice laughed again, giddy enough to feel brave, and stepped in towards Albus so that their sides were pressed together.  It was chilly enough for October that it wasn’t unreasonable for her to use the wind as an excuse to move closer, but her heart still raced at her own audacity.

            She felt Al tense up for a second, but then he turned and suddenly he’d bent his head and his lips were on hers.

            The kiss was quick, over almost as soon as it had begun, but Alice still felt breathless as they pulled back.  Al returned her smile shyly before grabbing her hand again and mentioning that they should probably head back up to the castle; it was getting late.

            Alice felt like she was walking on clouds the whole way back.

           

 

* * *

 

           

 

            Scorpius wished there was a spell that would just silence his thoughts.  Make them go away.  He didn’t want to listen to them tumble over themselves trying to convince him that Rose had been expecting him to kiss her just before they left the Three Broomsticks, or chattering about how _this sort of could be considered a date_.

            It _wasn’t_.

            Even if maybe he wanted it to be.

            “ _Fuck_ it’s cold,” Rose said as they walked down Main Street towards Honeydukes.  Scorpius looked to see her hunched pathetically in her jumper, and he automatically threw his arm around her shoulders to share his own warmth.  Rose obviously hadn’t been expecting him to do that—Scorpius felt her stiffen, and he tensed in response as his mind caught up with his actions and the implications hit him.

            “Some of us were smart enough to bring cloaks, Weasley,” he said, taking refuge in snark while the back of his mind frantically overanalyzed Rose’s failure to shove him away.

            “Some of us don’t have such delicate constitutions that a little autumn breeze has us pulling out our winter parkas.”

            “So what, you’re shivering for the fun of it?” Scorpius rolled his eyes.  His pulse casually raced a few hundred times faster that it was probably meant to, but he was a _Malfoy_ dammit, and if his upbringing gave him anything, it was the ability to appear confident and collected at all times.

            His comment earned him a sharp jab in the side from Rose’s fingers, which put an end both to him having an arm around her, and him having a collected appearance.

            Rose giggled as he yelped, and a smile broke through his glare sooner than he meant it to.

            “You’re buying me hot chocolate for that.”

            “Worth it,” she informed him cheekily, and Scorpius was again prevented from looking as put off as he wanted.  She nudged her shoulder against his, an apology of debatable sincerity, and they entered the welcome warmth of the candy shop.  She didn’t properly move away from him, even though there was room to—most students had returned to the castle this late in the afternoon.

            _It doesn’t mean anything_.  The mantra was growing old, but Scorpius refused to relinquish his common sense, even if he couldn’t stop his imagination running wild.  Even if there was a chance Rose did feel—whatever it was he was feeling—it was hardly worth risking their friendship.

            “Scor, you awake?” Rose handed him a hot chocolate with raised eyebrows.  “You were spacing out in the Broomsticks too.”

            “Yeah,” he agreed vaguely.  “Erm, I didn’t really get much sleep last night.”

            “Oh shit,” Rose said suddenly, looking at her watch and disregarding his excuse.  “We’ve only got five minutes to get back in the gates before they close for curfew.”

            “Fuck, really?”  They’d have a fun time explaining to their Heads of House why they hadn’t managed to keep track of time, both of them prefects, and “students who should be more aware of their obligations”—Scorpius could hear Professor Nott’s disapproving speech already.  “We’d better run for it.”

            Rose didn’t need to be told twice—she tossed her hot chocolate in the bin by the door, grabbed his hand and began sprinting, dragging him along for a few steps until he matched her pace.  They ran down the street, bags flying behind them.

            “Two—minutes,” he gasped as the castle loomed ahead of them.  “We—can make it.”

            Rose shrieked, presumably from adrenaline, and they pounded out the last hundred yards, dashing in just as the caretaker, Mr. Derrick, raised his wand to wave the gates closed.  He regarded them with a face somewhere between alarm and disgust as they collapsed at the foot of a nearby beech tree.

            “You have to be in the castle by dark,” he told them as he stalked back up towards the Entrance Hall.  As soon as he turned around, they both burst out laughing.

            “We must have looked completely mad!” Rose said.  “Just—running like that!”  Scorpius could feel a cramp developing in his stomach as he laughed—even Quidditch workouts couldn’t quite prepare him for a flat out sprint like that.

            “Be in the castle by dark,” he told Rose in the grouchiest voice he could muster, scowling.  Her laughter pealed out again, bright and crisp in the disappearing light.

            “We just ran—half a bloody mile,” Rose gasped delightedly.  “Like, give us a fucking break!”

            Then, as they knelt on the cold ground, still breathless from their dash and their laughter, Scorpius brought his left hand up to Rose’s cheek and kissed her all in one motion.  They both had their eyes open—Scorpius felt like he’d surprised himself with this whimsical and utterly idiotic action just as much as he’d surprised Rose—but after a moment, lids fluttered close and lips brushed again.  Again. Sixty seconds of bliss until Rose pulled back and scrambled away from him.

            She was breathing heavily, and her face was flashing between emotions too quickly for Scorpius to read.

            “Fuck—I’m sorry,” he gasped out, though it wasn’t quite true.  He _would_ be sorry if Rose was upset, but if she planned to kiss him again, he couldn’t say he’d regret anything.

            “Don’t—you--- that never happened,” she said, standing.  “Let’s just never talk about this again.”  With that blow, she turned and jogged up to the castle, not bothering to let him reply.  Scorpius fell back from where he’d been propped up on his hands, stared at the sky, and methodically worked his way through every combination of swearwords he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing Alice's POV, but it won't be the last!
> 
> What do you guys think of how the relationships are developing? What ships can you get behind? Any constructive criticism? Random headcanons? Spontaneous desires to tell me how cute my outfit was today?
> 
> Any of the above will be accepted with enthusiasm.

**Author's Note:**

> So.... It makes perfect sense to start writing a sequel when you are only halfway done with the original, right?  
> Ha.  
> About that.  
> If you want to see more from these characters, only four years younger and in strictly PG settings, check out "Coming Out of the Shadows". Like this fic, there is zero consistency as far as when updates come, but rest assured, I have abandoned neither of them. (Also, COotS will have priority over WRNGtD, I just had so much of this written that I wanted to share some!)
> 
> If you want to chat about headcanons or complain about my shitty update schedule, leave a comment or you can find me on tumblr at peterpettgrw.tumblr.com


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